Where You Hang Your Hat
by Person4
Summary: Even though Flora had only been trapped inside for a day, once she was free she found herself loath to go straight back indoors again.


Even though she'd only been locked in the barn for a day, once she was free it was awhile before she was willing to go inside again. Even once the others went into the Anderson manor, gladly joining everyone who lived there in celebrating Katia's finding her grandfather and uncle, Flora stayed out in the wide green field which had been sliced out of the forest surrounding the building.

She suspected that rain would start and drive her inside soon. There was more gray than white in the clouds, and what blue there was almost vanished beneath both. She thought that there was a riddle in there somewhere, in clouds and sky and the probability of it all bursting open above her, and turned it around in her mind twice before setting the idea aside. She needed to use her time to enjoy the space around her, not to think too hard about how it would end.

She turned her attention to the wildflowers growing around her instead. She was just linking two together to begin a chain when his voice from behind her made her jolt; she still wasn't accustomed to listening for soft steps after spending half her life surrounded by heavy-footed robots. "Flora, dear, I wanted to have a word with you."

She shifted around to look at him with a smile, and held up her flowers. "Here's a puzzle for you, Professor. When my crown is complete I plan to have it contain twice as many white flowers as blue ones, and twice as many blue flowers as violet ones. How many of each color will it contain?"

He knelt down beside her, which was a surprise. She would have guessed that he was too much of a gentleman to risk grass stains on his trousers. He picked a flower and twirled it between his fingers for a moment, then reached out to tuck it behind her ear. She shivered at the feel of his fingers brushing past her cheek, pushing back her hair. "It could only be four, eight, and sixteen; a size smaller and it wouldn't fit your head properly, and one larger could only hang around your neck. However, keep in mind that if you ever tell this riddle to someone elsewhere you must remember to tell them the size of the flowers. They won't have enough information without that."

"Exactly right, Professor, as long as the pattern I have planned works out." She added another flower, another link in the chain that was now blue-white-white. "What did you need me for?"

"I want you to know that I didn't mean to pry, Flora. I simply noticed this when we collected you from the barn." He held out a letter, which she recognized immediately. She'd had to write it on the tattered remains of a candybar wrapper that someone had left behind in the barn at some point, with the dull nub of a pencil that had been stuck into the spiral ring binding on the calendar tacked to the wall.

It embarrassed her a little to see it. The riddle contained in it was too obtuse, the language too flowery; she'd been terribly bored by the time she'd started it and had gotten a little carried away with packing in more imagery than hints toward the answer. It held the shape of the river as seen from high above, the sound of the summer birds which flocked there, the warm dusty smell of the general store, all the things that were still burrowed deeply into her heart.

But none of that mattered. He could see through any riddle to the answer at its core, however oblique it might be.

Her faith in his abilities was proven correct when he said, "St. Mystere is a long way from here." Then her heart dropped right out of her when he added, "Flora, dear, if you'd like to return to your village we'd be happy to escort you. It was never our intention to take you someplace you didn't wish to be," and she realized that sometimes even he could terribly misunderstand things.

"Oh no, Professor!" she said, letting her chain of flowers drop to the ground as her hands darted up to wave in the air in front of her, as if she could somehow fan his mistake away. I didn't intend to leave for good. I'd _never_ want that! I just didn't want to be alone while waiting for you and Luke to solve your mystery; I planned to return as soon as you sent word letting me know that you'd finished." She ducked her head and folded her hands in his lap, squeezing them tightly together. "Honestly, I feel silly for having written it now. I didn't expect that you'd be back so quickly."

He seemed, she thought, to relax the tiniest bit; a slight tension in his shoulders that she hadn't even noticed loosening, an almost invisibly faint crease in his forehead suddenly calling attention to itself by vanishing. He always presented such a calm front that she hadn't even realized that he might really be worried that she was unhappy staying with him.

"I'm certainly glad to hear that. I would hate to think that Luke and I had been unknowingly holding you against your will all this time."

"I'm so sorry that I worried you, Professor. Please don't ever doubt that there's nowhere I'd rather be than by your side." She flushed suddenly as she realized how forward she was being, and quickly gathered her flower chain back up so she had an excuse to keep her focus fixed on her hands instead of facing him. She tried to keep her voice light as she quickly shifted the subject a bit, hoping that it wasn't obvious that that was her aim. "Although, if possible I would like to visit St. Mystere now and then, when there's time. It _was_ my home for most of my life, and the people there are my friends, however unusual they might be. I... I do miss it, often, even though I'm happy in London and would never want to go back to living there."

"Then we'll all need to make a weekend of it some day soon," he said gently. The words made her heart swell so much that she knew the golden apple must be showing vividly above her collar, all the proof her father had wanted of his great kindness. Before she could begin to thank him he let out a faintly surprised, "Ah," and when she looked quickly back up at him he was holding up one of his hands with the palm flat. When she looked a little closer she noticed the fat round drop of rain resting in the center of his hand.

"Oh!" she exclaimed. She hadn't felt the first few drops of rain begin to fall, but when she reached up to lightly touch the top of her head she found that her hair was faintly damp, blocking the water from reaching her scalp.

"I'm afraid that you won't be able to finish your wreath, Flora," he said, pushing himself to his feet and offering her a hand to help her up before he brushed off his knees. "Perhaps I could offer you something else to cover your head."

"Why, Professor, the only thing your seem to have to offer is your own hat, and I can't imagine that you'd offer _it_," she teased.

"Have faith, Flora; I wouldn't have made the offer if I had no way of making good on it." Though the rain was already beginning to fall more heavily he stood still, facing her in the field. "Close your eyes for a moment."

She did as he asked, and after a moment she felt something settle on top of her head. As soon as eyes were open again she plucked it off again so she could look at it, and was surprised to find what she would have sworn was Professor Layton's own hat if it weren't still neatly covering his own head. "Why, Professor! Where did you get this? I'd swear that there's nowhere you could have been hiding it."

"Now Flora, it's not much of a surprise if I reveal how it was done. It's a souvenir of Folsense for you, my dear. Now come along, we must get inside before this rain gets any worse." He offered her his arm and she accepted it gladly, happy for his warmth as the rain gradually soaked through her dress enough for the chill of it to bother her. As if he'd plucked the thought from her mind Professor Layton gave her hand on his arm a light pat. "As soon as we're in the manor I'll brew us a pot of Root Remedy to ward off the cold. Never mind the rain; I firmly believe that a hot cup off tea and pleasant company are all the ingredients necessary for a fine afternoon. 


End file.
